


Champions

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Football | Soccer, M/M, Sports, Track and Field, locker room shenanigans, my birthday fic for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: The development of the relationship between Kim Jongin, the school's prized striker, and Oh Sehun, the school's undefeated sprinter.Or, in which Oh Sehun lives out a romance drama.





	Champions

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I should celebrate turning another year older by writing some sekai :)

The pads of his fingers are gradually starting to sear from the heat radiating off the surface of the running track. He’s been practising his 100-metre sprints for the past 20 minutes, and because the starting blocks are brand new and his coach’s babies (until someone smears dirt all over them), the track team isn’t allowed to use them unless a meet is scheduled for the upcoming weeks. So, for the next month, Oh Sehun’s stuck with burnt fingers. As he digs the spikes of his shoes into the track, Sehun looks up and straight ahead, away from his fingers.

“In three,” Minseok calls from the finish line, “two, one –”

The whistle blows, short and sharp, and the muscles in Sehun’s legs react almost instantly. Power thrums from the soles of his feet, past the lean sinews of his calves, and towards thick, toned thighs.

He covers the 100 metres in a breeze and slows to a jog as he makes a wide turn back to his teammate.

“10.28 seconds,” Minseok reports, holding up the stopwatch.

Sehun’s personal record for the 100-metre sprint is 9.94 – he’s been trying to crack 9.90 for a little over a year, but it’s definitely not easy.

Grabbing his bottle of Gatorade, Sehun drains half of it in a single breath.

“I think I’m done with sprinting for the day,” he pants, fishing a towel out of his sports bag and slinging it around the back of his neck.

“You’re nuts,” Minseok says, “practising when it’s the second week of school and the team hasn’t even formally formed yet.”

“I haven’t been practising my sprints as much as I should have been over the summer break,” Sehun replies, shaking out the heaviness in his thighs. “Just making sure I’ll be back in my groove for actual practice.”

Minseok rolls his eyes, but gives Sehun’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he heads off for class.

They’ve been friends since Sehun joined the track team in his freshman year and shattered Minseok’s record of 21.17 seconds for the 200-metre sprint by almost a full second. Now, two years later, Minseok’s in his last year of college (he’d taken a gap year and an extra year in college just because he could), and probably the first pick for the men’s track team captain.

Minseok’s the most well-rounded athlete in the team – sure, they’ve got members that perform much better in various events, but Minseok will always end up in the top 5 in every single one. He’s still undefeated in both the mile and 5000 metres events (the longest one that their university trains for), Sehun in all the sprinting events, Johnny in both long and high jump, and Minhyuk in hurdles. The team’s relay racing isn’t the best amongst the collegiate teams, but they’re working on improving it. The women’s team, on the other hand, have been relay champs for the past five years and counting. Sunmi, captain of the women’s track team, never fails to cheerfully rub that fact into Minseok’s face whenever they bump into each other on the field.

His ringing phone startles Sehun out of his daze, and he peers down at the screen to see Baekhyun’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, there’s a flash mob going on right now in the student centre, and – HAHAHAHHAHA – oh my god, you have to come watch. Jongdae’s stuck in the middle of it. Like, he literally can’t get out of the flash mob, and they’re trying to get him to dance along – HAHAHHAHAHA – oh my god. Junmyeon’s trying to fish him out but his efforts are actually useless.”

Sehun hears Junmyeon’s indignant _hey! I don’t see_ you _trying!_ trickling through the line. He snorts into his phone.

“I’m at the field man. I don’t think I can make it there in time.”

“Ugh, fine. Chanyeol’s recording it; you can watch it later.”

“I definitely will.”

Hanging up, Sehun grabs his earphones, takes another glug of Gatorade, and changes into his distance shoes before stepping back onto the track. He has just enough time to run a 5k and take a quick shower before his class starts.

Long distance isn’t really Sehun’s forte – his speed tends to _really_ taper off towards the end, especially the last kilometre or so, and he can always notice his form start to slack. But that just means he has to train harder and longer for it.

Hitting _start_ on the stopwatch app, Sehun breaks into a steady pace as a hip-hop track with an equally steady beat begins to play through his earphones.

The first couple of kilometres go by quickly – Sehun matches Minseok’s times easily for both –, and just as he’s about to finish the third, he sees a few members of the men’s football team head over towards the field.

They recognise him (Sehun’s earned the school a fair amount of medals and trophies over the years; pretty much all of the athletes recognise him at this point) and keep out of his path, allowing Sehun to maintain his pace as he passes them. He lifts a hand in response to Minho’s – the team captain – wave and checks his time for the third lap. This time, he doesn’t match Minseok’s time; halfway through the 5k is when he starts to slow.

By the time Sehun finishes his last two kilometres, the footballers are already on the grass field, starting to warm up. He steps onto the grass, sweat running down his face, neck, and body in rivulets. He’s pretty sure his shirt is soaked through at this point.

Not wanting to interrupt, Sehun stuffs everything into his sports bag as quickly as he can.

“Take your time,” someone says, and Sehun looks up to see Kim Jongin, the team’s prized striker, gazing his way. They’ve talked quite a few times before, what with their overlapping circle of friends, but they haven’t spent enough time with each other to consider the other a friend.

Light is radiating down from behind, and Sehun can barely make out Jongin’s face. “You should stretch a little before you leave.”

Sehun flushes. He has a bad habit of not stretching out his muscles, and although nothing bad has happened to him thus far, he knows it’s a ticking time bomb. Minseok always makes sure he stretches during practice, but when no one’s around to keep an eye on him, Sehun never bothers.

“How did –”

“Minseok and Minho are friends,” Jongin says, laughing. Sehun sighs and sets his bag down.

“I won’t stand over you like a hawk, don’t worry,” Jongin continues, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto his bag. “But please stretch. Your team can’t afford to lose you.”

With that, he jogs back towards his own team, giving Sehun a little wave over his shoulder as he goes. Sehun stretches for a full ten minutes before hurrying off in the direction of the showers; as he walks away from the field, he swears he sees Jongin give him a thumbs up.

 

 

 

  
It’s a Saturday, and he usually teaches beginner’s contemporary at the dance studio run by Taemin’s parents, but instead of finding himself in a dance studio, Jongin finds himself walking out onto the football field. Tryouts are on Monday, and being co-captain, Jongin’s entrusted with the job of coming up with a bunch of drills. So here he is, dragging a metal basket full of equipment behind him, sweltering under the relentless sun.

He’s in the middle of running through a few drills, plastic discs and agility ladders scattered all around him, when someone shouts his name.

“Minseok? Hey!”

Minseok jogs over, and Jongin notices that he’s got his training gear on.

“You seem busy,” Minseok says, gesturing to all the equipment.

“Minho’s making me come up with drills,” Jongin says, pulling a face. “He’s not going to be around for tryouts, so it falls to me to run it.”

Minseok laughs. “Yeah, he has an interview that day, doesn’t he?”

Jongin nods and shifts a cone over to the right by a few inches.

“What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“Training,” Minseok replies. Jongin figured as much.

“Sehun wants me to help him improve his long distance times,” Minseok continues. “I promised to help him every Saturday, outside of regular practice sessions.”

“He’s here too?” Jongin says, surprised.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I’ve seen him out here, practising every day except for Thursday; and that’s only because I didn’t have any classes on this side of the campus.”

Minseok doesn’t seem surprised.

“I’m gonna have to tell him to take a rest,” Minseok mutters to himself. “That boy’s going to burn out.”

“Why does he practice so much? He’s already so good.”

“He’s here on a scholarship,” Minseok explains. “If his performances start to decline, he’ll risk losing it.”

Before Jongin can respond to that, a familiar voice calls out Minseok’s name, and the runner runs off with a clap to Jongin’s shoulder. A hundred or so metres away, Jongin spots Sehun, clad in a thin tank and his runner's shorts, sports bag slung over a broad shoulder. He waves and receives one in return.

For the next hour, Jongin busies himself with drills on the field as the runners run laps around him. Minseok is the first one to leave, and when Jongin glances up from his clipboard, he sees a drenched Sehun dragging himself over onto the field, where he flops down with a huff.

“Did you stretch?” Jongin calls.

Sehun grimaces noticeably, but grabs a knee and pulls it up to his chest, eyes still firmly shut. Jongin chuckles and turns his attention back to the football by his feet, sending it flying into the net of the small, portable goal he’d placed a short distance away.

Grabbing another ball, he runs through a few more agility and speed drills, before finally deciding on two that he’ll use on Monday. When he looks up again, Sehun’s still on his back, stretching out his hamstrings. Jongin nods to himself in approval. Perching on the edge of the ball basket, he makes a few more notes and finalises his tryout drill lineup.

“Drills?”

Sehun’s standing just off to the side, damp hair sticking up every which way as he rubs at his strands with a towel.

“Yeah, for tryouts.”

“Looks brutal,” Sehun comments, peering closer at the clipboard. “What’s this drill?”

“It’s not that bad,” Jongin insists, setting the clipboard down and reaching his foot out for a ball. “It’s just this –”

He runs through the drill as Sehun watches with interest.

“I’m terrible at football, do you know? Can’t control the ball to save my life,” Sehun says, eyeing the football trapped underneath Jongin’s toes. “I’m pretty sure I’ve tripped over one during P.E. in middle school and skidded across the field – there might’ve been a line of green down my shirt, one that I had to wear for the rest of day. I’m not entirely sure though, I have selective memory when it comes to embarrassing situations.”

Jongin laughs, nudging the ball over to an apprehensive-looking Sehun, who manages to stop it in its tracks without tripping over.

“I can teach you one day,” Jongin offers. “That is, if you ever have a free day from all this running.”

Sehun sighs. “I’m worried my times aren’t up to par. Tryouts are on Thursday, and I’m gonna get an earful from my coach if I haven’t maintained my times. I haven’t gotten anything less than 10 seconds for my 100-metre sprint, and I averaged a 9.97 last season. It’s my fault though; I haven’t been training as much as I should’ve been over the summer.”

“If you push yourself too hard over such a short time, you might injure yourself,” Jongin chides, picking up all the coloured cones and arranging them by colour. He drops a stack into the basket.

“I know, but –”

“Take a break tomorrow,” Jongin says. “No running, no sprinting, not even a slow jog. Take an ice bath when you get home today. Pamper your muscles. You still have time to prepare for the new season, don’t worry too much about it. You’re the best sprinter this school’s had in a long time – even if you need a little more practice to return to your top form, that fact won’t change.”

He tosses footballs into the basket; Sehun catches one that flies past its mark.

“Thanks,” Sehun says, once everything is packed away. “I’ll see you around?”

“Of course,” Jongin says, giving him a smile. Sehun, the corners of his lips twitching, grabs his sports bag and leaves.

 

 

 

  
The rest of the month passes by in a flurry of sweat and exhaustion. Jongin and Minho manage to win their first game of the season, although the victory was followed by a draw. Sehun manages an average of 9.99 seconds for the 100-metre by the end of the month, and even bested his own personal record at the 400-metre event.

Towards the end of the first quarter, both track teams find themselves sharing the area with both football teams – all are due to participate in the first round of major sports league competitions that will be held before winter hits.

They train until the sun sets, air punctuated with shouts, pants, and whistle blowing. During breaks, Sehun (along with his teammates) stands on the edge of the field, cheering on the football team as they perform drill after drill. The football team returns the favour during their own break.

“I’m fucking tired man,” Jongin groans, pulling off his shirt and grimacing at how the damp fabric clings to his skin. Behind him, he hears Minho shouting at one of the new recruits.

He’s too busy complaining to Jaehyun to notice Sehun stumbling over his own feet as he passes right in front of him.

An hour later, the teams start to wrap up their practices. Minseok gathers his teammates for a cool down stretch as Sunmi dismisses hers, and Minho makes his pick up all the footballs lying across the field.

“Jongin! Get those two over there!” Minho yells, pointing towards the other end of the field. Jongin jogs over, grabs both footballs, and turns around, only to have his gaze land right on Sehun’s spandex-clad ass.

The runner’s bent over, long legs straight, fingers curled around his ankles as Minseok counts down the seconds to the end of the stretch.

 _Wow_ , is all Jongin can think, eyes wide. It takes Minho yelling his name – twice – for Jongin to come back to his senses. He sprints back towards his team, red faced. When Minho asks him about it, he mumbles something about head rushes and bending over. It’s close enough to the truth, he figures.

 

 

 

  
Dates for both track and football tournaments coincide, with the track teams competing on home turf and the football teams competing at a nearby college.

“It’s already fall, why is it still so damn hot?” Baekhyun grumbles, fanning himself with a hand.

Junmyeon gestures to a shaded area of the bleachers, and Baekhyun makes a beeline for it.

“When’s Sehun up?”

“After this event,” Junmyeon says, peering at the program in his hands. “That is, assuming they haven’t changed anything.”

Chanyeol fiddles with his camera and takes a few test shots – he works for the school paper as their chief photographer.

“Look at Jongdae,” Baekhyun snorts, pointing to their friend currently out on the field, interviewing sweaty athletes. “He’s so sweaty his hair is flat.”

Jongdae is the editor of the school paper, in charge of writing front page stories, and that means needing to be up close and personal. Chanyeol zooms in on Jongdae’s head and snaps a picture.

“Careful, he might fire you out of spite,” Junmyeon comments, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

“Nah, no one else puts up with his shit as well as I do,” Chanyeol replies, taking another picture of the sweat stain blooming across Jongdae’s back. Baekhyun sniggers.

“Junmyeon!”

The three turn around to see a large group of people walking in their direction. Junmyeon spots Taemin, the odd one out, the dancer amongst the footballers, and breaks out into a grin.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you around for a while!” Hopping down from his seat, Junmyeon heads over to give Taemin a hug.

Taemin’s in his final year in the city’s best dance academy and the two childhood friends haven’t been able to hang out in a long time due to their busy schedules.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jongin told my mother about his tournament today,” Taemin says, settling down into a seat. He greets both Chanyeol and Baekhyun. “And I had time, so I figured, why not come? His first game isn’t for another hour though, so we’re here to add to the school spirit!”

Taemin pauses, looks over his shoulder at the footballers, and leans over to Junmyeon.

“Also, I heard that there’s someone on the track team with a stellar ass,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Before Junmyeon can even react to the statement, Baekhyun sticks his head into the conversation and says, “Sehun?”

“Sehun? Is that his name?” Taemin asks, swivelling around to stare at Jongin.

“Shut the fuck up man,” Jongin mutters, smacking Taemin on the arm.

Baekhyun’s eyes slide from Taemin’s delighted face over to Jongin’s embarrassed one, and he bursts out laughing in glee.

 

 

 

 

“Don’t be so nervous,” Minseok says, pinning Sehun’s number to the back of his compression shirt. Sweat’s already causing the tight, black fabric to cling even more to his frame.

“What if I don’t do well?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Minseok says firmly.

Sehun sighs, rolls his neck, and lets Minseok pull him to the starting line. The first event is Sehun’s best – the 100-metre event. He absolutely has to win this.

He’s in the farthest lane from the field, and the walk over to his starting block seems to take a lifetime. Minseok’s grip on his wrist is unfaltering, and it serves as a grounding force, one that Sehun is grateful for.

When he gets to his lane, Minseok gives him a quick, one-armed hug and jogs back to the field without another word.

The first whistle sounds, and Sehun takes a deep breath before settling down into his starting position. The second whistle sounds, and he shifts his weight into his ready position. The third whistle sounds, and he pushes off the ground.

When Sehun races, the only thing he sees is the finish line, and everything else becomes a blur to him. In fact, he doesn’t register any sounds until the race is over and his breathing slows back down to normal.

Then, all he hears is _Yeah!! Sehun!!_ followed by thunderous applause.

Sehun recognises someone’s obnoxious whooping – he scans the bleachers and confirms his suspicions when his gaze lands on Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun’s pumping his fists in the air, Junmyeon’s on his feet, and Chanyeol’s got his big ass camera pointed right at him. Jongdae’s probably trying to make his way over to him right now. Surprise hits Sehun when he spots the men’s football team next to them, and his eyes widen a little when he sees that Jongin’s on his feet, jumping as he claps and cheers.

He smiles, a little curve of his lips, and is promptly distracted by the rest of his team running into him. Johnny lifts him off the floor with arms around his waist, and Minseok’s thumping on his back, yelling _See? I told you that you’d win!_

Sehun twists around as best as he can in Johnny’s grip in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the scoreboard. He sees his name, followed by: 9.96.

His smile widens even more.

 

 

 

  
Day 1 of the tournament ends with Sehun winning all of his sprints, even coming in the top 5 in the 5-kilometre event. Along with the other medals that the rest of the team obtained, they’re guaranteed a spot in the quarter-finals. Now they just have to maintain their performance.

At this point, the crowd’s dwindled – Sehun guesses that a fair amount of them have gone to cheer on the football teams. But his friends are still here for him, still seated on the uncomfortable bleachers.

He walks over to them, bag slung over his shoulder, and accepts their congratulations with a grin.

“Hey, Sehun,” Baekhyun says slowly, leaning against Junmyeon, who sighs.

Sehun raises an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

“Someone thinks you have a great ass.”

Sehun brows furrow, and his lips part in confusion. “What?”

“You have a nice ass.”

“Thanks..?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Don’t thank me, thank Jongin.”

“Excuse me?”

Baekhyun nods proudly, as if telling Sehun this little tidbit is his good deed of the day.

“You heard me.”

 

 

 

  
The football arcs prettily, almost poetically, towards the goal. Sehun stares, slack-jawed, as the goalkeeper of the opposing team leaps upward with his arms outstretched – the ball soars between his arms and its trajectory is promptly stopped by the net.

A victorious scream rips out of Sehun’s throat before he even gets the idea to form it.

It’s the last match of the day, the team’s second game, and their first win (the first ended in a draw). The sky’s already dark, stadium lights blinding, and the autumn breeze feels really nice against his bare arms.

The crowd moves as one, hundreds of feet thundering down the steps of the bleachers towards the illuminated field. Baekhyun’s got a firm hand on the small of Sehun’s back, pushing him ahead of the crowd, and Sehun can only go along with it.

Students are already starting to converge on the team, and amidst all the pushing and shoving, Sehun finds himself pressed up against a warm, sweaty, and shirtless body.

He hears laughter, calls of thanks, and then a surprised utterance of his name. The body against his side moves and Jongin’s face shifts into view.

“Hey,” Sehun says, wincing as someone treads on his toes. “Congrats on your win!”

“Thanks,” Jongin replies, grinning. He throws his jersey across his shoulder casually, and Sehun tries not to stare at how Jongin’s bare skin is _glowing_ under the light.

“You didn’t do too bad yourself,” Jongin continues with a smile, head tilting. Several people around them slap Jongin’s back in congratulations, and he manages to acknowledge them and keep his attention on Sehun at the same time. It almost causes Sehun to blush.

“Uh, yeah,” Sehun says, eyes flickering down to Jongin’s chest before instantly shooting back up to his face. “I guess I did alright.”

“Hey, you came almost half a second ahead of the person in second place in _all_ of your races,” Jongin points out.

Sehun shrugs, smiles at a student who butts in to congratulate the both of them, and turns to nudge Jongin in his side.

“Well, someone told me I was the best sprinter our school’s had in awhile,” Sehun says. “I guess he was right.”

Jongin laughs, a warm sound that sends Sehun’s heart aflutter.

 

 

 

  
Despite starting later, the men’s football team finishes their tournament before the men’s track and field team. They, of course, come in first, winning five out of seven of their games. So now, high off their win, they crowd around the edge of the track, ready to watch the last big event of the night: the relay race.

The women’s track team have already finished, coming in third in both the total number of gold medals and overall number of medals. But their greatest accomplishment is the fact that they’ve set a new record within the league for the relay race. The girls, medals all hung around their necks, are gathered on the field, anxious to see how the boys perform on one of their weakest events.

Minseok has his game face on as he gets into position at the starting line, grip almost vice-like around the obnoxiously pink baton in his hand. When the bang from starter pistol cracks through the air, Minseok practically vaults off the starting blocks.

The baton is taken on a wild ride around the track, and by the time it gets around to the anchor leg, the crowd is nearly overflowing with excitement.

Sehun extends his left arm backwards and starts off on a slow jog. When he feels the cylinder – a little slick from the sweat of his teammates – pressing against his palm, he tightens his fingers around it and instantly picks up speed.

He’s neck and neck with the runner in the lane next to his. But Sehun’s raced against him before, and he knows that this runner doesn’t save his stamina for a burst of speed during the last 20 metres or so. So Sehun maintains his pace for a few seconds, before pushing himself as much as he possibly can.

When he crosses the finish line, he feels a weight lift off of his shoulders. For a few moments, all he’s aware of is the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, the burn of his thighs, and the warm metal of the baton still clutched in his fist.

Then, he hears the eruption of cheers from the crowd, and Minseok’s running towards him, face lit up in happiness.

“We medalled!” Minseok screams, and Sehun can only stare blankly at his captain until Minseok reaches him.

“What?”

“41.28 seconds! Third place! We _medalled_ , Sehun!”

Sehun can only laugh, amazed.

 

 

 

  
The men’s track and field team rank second in the total number of gold medals, and fourth in overall medals. Their bronze medal in the relay race – they usually never medal in the event – brings smiles to the runners’ faces whenever they see it.

Once the awards ceremony is over, parents and friends of the track team flood onto the field, and there’s a tangle of limbs as everyone tries to hug the person of their affection.

Sehun finds himself among his friends, and Minseok gives him an exceptionally tight hug. Sehun gives everyone a hug and a thank you for coming out to support him and his team. Jongdae asks for a team picture, and Sehun willingly lets Johnny pull on his cheek for the shot. When he’s done mingling, Sehun squeezes past the crowd and ambles towards the locker rooms.

He really needs a long, hot shower.

 

 

 

  
Steam curls around him when he shuts off the water, and Sehun sighs happily at how clean he feels. It’s almost as if he’s been sweating constantly over the past few weeks, and it’s amazing to feel squeaky clean. Tying his towel around his waist, Sehun shakes off excess water in his hair and heads over to his locker.

Sitting on the bench and leaning against his locker door is none other than Jongin, his own hair damp from a shower taken not long ago.

“Hey,” Jongin says, sitting up. Sehun doesn’t miss how Jongin’s gaze slides down his body briefly before returning to his face.

“Hey,” Sehun replies. “What are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t able to congratulate you just now,” Jongin says, “the crowd was crazy.”

Sehun notices the gold medal around Jongin’s neck and gestures to it with a smile. “Thanks. And congratulations to you, too.”

Jongin pats the medal that’s resting against his chest and chuckles.

“We did well this season, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sehun agrees, reaching around Jongin to grab his bag. He pulls out a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a white cotton tank. “I didn’t think I’d do this well, to be quite honest.”

Jongin fixes him with a look. “Please. Don’t downplay your abilities. There’s a reason why you always come in first in your events. Everyone in school is a fan of yours, even if they don’t follow track and field.”

Sehun snorts, turning his back to Jongin and tugging his towel free. He instantly feels Jongin’s gaze on his bare ass but does his best to ignore it as he towels himself dry.

“You make it sound as if I’m a god,” Sehun comments, pulling on his boxers and sweats.

“You could be,” Jongin says, shrugging.

Sehun colours, and manages to avoid Jongin’s gaze by reaching for his tank.

But a strong hand on the piece of clothing stops Sehun in his tracks, and he’s forced to look up. Jongin’s gaze is scorching.

“Would it be too forward to ask you to keep this off,” Jongin says, voice rough. At that, Sehun’s throat slams shut for a second.

“Uh –”

When Jongin rises to his feet, Sehun takes an instinctive step backwards. His back slams against the lockers, and his heart slams against his ribcage. Jongin closes the distance between them purposefully, hair falling into his eyes. With a blush, Sehun notices that Jongin’s hair gets extremely fluffy as it dries.

“Let me kiss you,” Jongin propositions, sounding very sure of himself.

‘Why would you want to,” Sehun breathes, glancing down at Jongin’s lips. Fuck, he looks like he’d be a good kisser.

“You’re so humble,” Jongin says. “So skilled. So easy to get along with. And it really helps that you’re so attractive.”

Sehun exhales and lets his head fall back. It bounces off the lockers with a dull thud.

“Okay,” Sehun says after a beat. Jongin’s palms come up to rest against his head, and his brain nearly short-circuits. He’s pretty sure this is a scene in every romance drama out there. Holy shit, he’s living out a romance drama.

“Yeah?”

Sehun doesn’t trust himself to say anything, so he settles with a nod.

Jongin completely forgoes being soft and gentle. He goes straight for bruising and soul-sucking, and Sehun can only try to match Jongin blow for blow.

When Jongin licks into his mouth and Sehun gets a taste of the footballer, he loses it. Grabbing Jongin by the hips, he flips them around and pushes Jongin up against the lockers. He shoves Jongin’s black shirt up towards his chest – palms pushing against Jongin’s abs, he moans quietly into Jongin’s mouth and presses even closer.

“I’ve been wanting to touch these for the longest time,” Sehun confesses, running his fingers down the prominent muscles of Jongin’s abs. “Every damn time you take your shirt off after a game or practice…”

“Hey,” Jongin interjects, “ _I_ suffer every time you wear those damn compression shorts.”

Sehun barks out a laugh. Grabbing Jongin’s hands, he moves them from his waist down to the curve of his ass – Jongin instantly squeezes, and Sehun hums against Jongin’s lips.

“I have a lot of self-restraint,” Jongin murmurs, biting down on the curve of Sehun’s shoulder, “which I pride myself on, but you are really testing me.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to restrain yourself,” Sehun points out, shamelessly pushing his pelvis into Jongin’s. Molten pleasure floods his veins, and Sehun barely manages to fight back an embarrassingly loud moan. With his hectic schedule, Sehun doesn’t have a lot of free time to get laid, and it’s clearly showing.

“I’m not going to fuck you yet,” Jongin tells him, hooking his thumbs into the band of Sehun’s sweats. “But I’m going to touch you because I really need to.”

Sehun fumbles with the button on Jongin’s jeans and shoves them down at the same time Jongin rids him of his sweats and boxers.

“Well, fuck me,” Sehun mutters, staring down at Jongin’s dick, slightly curved and flushed at the tip.

“Soon,” Jongin promises, squeezing the base of Sehun’s dick. “After we go on a few dates.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, but the dusting of red across his cheeks gives him away.

 

 

 

  
The air between them is charged, buzzing with stifled moans and heavy breathing as they rest their heads on each other’s shoulders, gazes trained on Jongin’s hand as it glides up and down their slick erections. There’s a wet finger gently stroking against his entrance, and Sehun tries his very best not to rock back against it.

“Please,” Sehun whispers, hips bucking up into Jongin’s fist. The head of his cock slides deliciously against the underside of Jongin’s, and he digs his fingernails into the tense muscle of Jongin’s shoulder.

“ _Please_ ,” he says again, and Jongin’s hand speeds up. His thumb digs into the dripping slit, and the finger that’s teasing his asshole finally pushes past the ring of muscle – Sehun comes with a cry, thighs tensing and body shuddering in Jongin’s hold. Come covers their torsos, and Jongin uses the extra lubrication to bring himself to his own orgasm.

They stand there for a minute or so, legs trembling with exertion, Jongin’s hand still wrapped around their gradually softening cocks.

“When’s our first date,” Sehun mutters, still trying to catch his breath.

Jongin laughs, chest heaving, and gives Sehun’s ass cheek a squeeze.

“Tomorrow?”

“Good.”

 

 

 

  
They have five dates in a row, and by the end of the fifth date, Sehun finds himself pressed face down into Jongin’s duvet, the softness around him contrasting beautifully with how well Jongin’s fucking him – his knees are actually turning into jelly.

After two mind-blowing orgasms, Sehun slumps against the pillows, thoroughly fucked out.

“I have practice tomorrow,” Sehun sighs. “My legs aren’t working.”

“Tell Minseok you pulled a muscle,” Jongin suggests, nosing against the sharpness of Sehun’s jaw.

“If I do, he’ll actually make me stretch for two hours every damn day, and I really don’t want that.”

Jongin laughs, gentle puffs of air against Sehun’s cheek, and for a fleeting moment, Sehun thinks that he’ll be okay with two hours of stretching and an overbearing Minseok hovering over him.

 

 

 

  
Through the months of winter, whenever they have free time, Jongin will teach Sehun the basics of football and Sehun will help Jongin build up his stamina. Students will see them darting around the field and through training cones with a football on some days, and doing lap after lap on the track on other days. When it’s too cold or when there’s too much snow, they’ll take a day off and join their friends indoors, curled up into each other.

By the time winter starts to fade away and the second athletic season starts to draw to a close (i.e. the second round of tournaments are upon them), they’re known throughout the school as the school’s Most Athletic Couple; some dub them as the Greek God Couple, but they prefer the former as it isn’t as embarrassing.

They always try their best not to miss each other’s games and races, but it’s inevitable that their schedules clash occasionally. But they’ll always make up for missing a competition with a gigantic balloon and a bouquet of obnoxiously bright flowers at the next game.

Jongin is Sehun’s loudest cheerleader, and Sehun is Jongin’s Number One fan.

In the last few minutes of the football tournament’s gold medal game, Jongin scores the winning goal. As soon as the whistle blows, signalling the end of the game, Sehun’s sprinting onto the field. He presses a gold medal into Jongin’s palm – it’s customised, and reads _Champion of my Heart_. Jongin laughs into Sehun’s ear, kisses him, and hangs it around his neck. He wears it for an entire week.

Sehun finally breaks his own personal record for the 100-metre event during the finals of the track and field tournament, and Jongin kisses Sehun breathless at the finish line. Minho pops some streamers over the couple with a snigger.

When Sehun wins Athlete of the Year at the school’s end-of-year awards ceremony – beating out fourteen other nominees, including Jongin –, Jongin’s scream of happiness drowns out everyone else’s.

“I really couldn’t have done so well without Jongin’s constant support and love,” Sehun says, blushing a little at how everyone in the auditorium coos at his words. “If falling in love was a race, I would definitely come in first.”

He cringes immediately after he says it, but the beautiful smile on Jongin’s face makes it all worthwhile.

Later that night, Jongin slides a hand up the side of Sehun’s bare thigh and whispers, “Even if you come in last, you will always be my champion.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll write a oneshot for their first time actually doing the do. Also, I say football, not soccer, because the game is literally FOOT BALL.
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> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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